Finding Arun (33 page)

After a few moments Chandni abruptly pulled away,
her expression dark and serious.

‘Please will you promise me something, Arun,’ she
said gravely.

‘Anything.’

‘Promise me that you won’t try to talk to my
Bapu-ji.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Because, you’ll only make it worse.’

‘How could telling him that I’m in love with you
make it worse?’ Arun grumbled, entirely confused.

‘Because it’s not just about that, Arun. Even if he
could accept that our love is genuine ... boyfriends, girlfriends,
dates, all these things are not accepted within our culture. He
won’t allow them, because he doesn’t understand them, and in his
eyes, the fact that you didn’t seek his blessing right from the
start not only means that you lack respect for our culture and
traditions, but for him as a man. As long as he feels that way he
will never respect you and if he doesn’t respect you, then he won’t
listen to you either.’

Arun contemplated Chandni’s argument and recalled
with great irritation Lucky and Hanara’s earlier suggestion that
Rajubhai Joshi was the key to gaining access to Chandni. On the one
hand he could understand why the old man might feel slighted by his
actions, but on the other it was hard to believe that things would
have turned out any different if he had asked for permission
upfront. The request would almost certainly have been denied and
even if it hadn’t, they would never have been allowed to spend time
alone or to visit half of the places that they had experienced
together, places where their love had been able to blossom and grow
without interference.

‘Are you saying that you want us to keep sneaking
around behind his back?’ asked Arun, confused by the expression of
Chandni’s earlier wish not to lie anymore.

‘No, no. We can’t. We mustn’t.’

‘Then what?’

‘I will talk to him. When he has calmed down a bit
and when the time is right.’

‘And in the meantime?’

‘In the meantime … we have to continue as we
are.’

Arun opened his mouth to protest, but then thought
better of it and settled for sulking instead, protruding his bottom
lip in a stroppy pout.

‘Please try to understand,’ Chandni pleaded quietly,
‘I do love you, but I can’t lie anymore. It’s too risky.’

Arun nodded his acceptance to the promise, but he
wasn’t happy about it. The week had been agonising, seeing her, but
not speaking to her, touching her, but not being able to hold her;
how could he indefinitely endure more of the same? The very thought
crushed him, but a promise was a promise and he had to at least
try, for Chandni’s sake.

In the wake of their professions and promises,
Chandni and Arun sat, clinging to one another, enjoying the time
that they could before they would be forced to separate again. Arun
felt greatly comforted by her presence alone and for the first time
in a week his body submitted to relaxation, the tension in his
muscles virtually melting away. Exhausted by his run of sleepless
nights, he was on the verge of dozing off completely when he felt
Chandni’s soft hands gently stroking him awake.

‘Hey,’ she smiled sweetly, ‘I forgot to ask how it
went with your father. What did he say about going to Mumbai?’

Arun felt a sharp pang in his chest and winced at
the memory of his conversation with Arthur. He had been so consumed
by Chandni’s suggestion that they end their relationship that he
had completely forgotten about the added complexity of Arthur’s
ultimatum. He looked across at her innocent face, not knowing how
to tell her and not wanting to burden her with any more than he
already had, but she was looking at him expectantly and he knew
that he would not be able to dodge the question.

‘He wants me to come home. He’s not going to pay for
me to go to medical college here and if I don’t come home now, he’s
said that I shouldn’t bother to come back at all.’

Chandni gasped and clasped her hands to her mouth,
equally shocked by both the revelation and the calmness with which
Arun had delivered it. Her eyes were laden with pity and it made
Arun feel pathetic.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘What can I do? I don’t want to go home, especially
now that Arthur’s behaving like this, but becoming a doctor is my
dream and he is still my father. I just don’t understand why he
suddenly cares so much about where I go to study; we’re not even
that close. And I know that if I go home, he’s going to do
everything in his power to make sure that I can’t come back out
here again,’ he finished, his voice rising to a crescendo with
exasperation.

‘So stay then,’ Chandni whispered hopefully, ‘don’t
go, Arun … please.’

‘Oh, Chandni, I want to, really I do, but how can I?
I can’t afford to pay for medical college myself, and who knows how
long it would take to save up enough money. Plus, there are still
no guarantees that I’ll even get a place. I want to be close to
you, and to Lucky and Hanara, but I think the only way I can make
that happen is to go away and come back again some day.’

Chandni smiled a bittersweet smile; she seemed
charmed by Arun’s ongoing desire to be close to her and irked by
the uncooperating practicalities of their situation, but, much the
same as Hanara and Lucky, she couldn’t advise on a solution.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by faster than
Arun would have liked and though he enjoyed the opportunity to
spend time alone with Chandni again after so long, they both
remained subdued by the gloomy outlook. It was impossible to avoid
intermittently discussing the challenges that they faced and the
more that they talked, the more convinced Arun became that
returning to England was the sensible option. It was the only path
that provided any certainty and this way he knew that he would be
able to achieve his dream of becoming a doctor. Even if by some
small miracle he were to be accepted into medical college in Mumbai
and managed to find the funds to attend, with Chandni under close
watch and Arthur threatening to disown him, he was starting to
think that going home would be best for everyone all round.

THOUGH the afternoon had not been the happiest one
that they had shared, knowing that Chandni loved him and working
through the challenges that they faced together had provided Arun
with the release that he so desperately needed. He was finally able
to enjoy a restful night’s sleep and the following day he felt much
more revived, his head less congested by the complex array of
thoughts that he had been juggling all week. He wasn’t exactly
overjoyed at the prospect of returning to England, but the decision
to do so, and the plans and provisions that he had made with
Chandni to sustain their relationship, had given him a sense of
direction once more.

He knew that his decision would crush Hanara and
Lucky, but he knew too that they would understand and appreciate
that this was the only way to guarantee that he might one day
return more permanently and under his own steam. He decided to
break the news to them during dinner that night when they would all
be together and, though it might dampen their spirits, at least
their visit to the mandir would prevent them from dwelling on the
matter all evening. Arun had a little over two weeks remaining in
the village and he was determined to make the most of the time. He
wanted to leave a lasting impression, not just on Lucky, Hanara and
Chandni, but also on the other villagers that had so warmly
welcomed him and left such a lasting impression on his soul. This
time, he would not be forgotten by his home.

He passed the day in the shop talking amicably with
his regular customers, going to great lengths to assist them with
their purchases and making a concerted effort to be more positive
about the journey that lay ahead. Mrs Satpathy came by, as did a
number of Hanara and Lucky’s friends from the mandir, and Arun
laughed and joked with each and every one, taking mental pictures
by which to remember them. When the sun began to set, he secured
the shop for the night and headed towards the house for dinner,
feeling famished by the return of his appetite, but upon stepping
inside he instantly knew that something was not right. The
omnipresent smell of spices and the cloud of smoke that usually
greeted him were nowhere to be found and Hanara was not in the
kitchen where she usually stood.

‘Hanara?’ he called, wondering where she might
be.

‘I’m here only,’ she answered, emerging from her
bedroom with her hair swept to one side while she tried to fix an
earring in place through the hole in her left ear.

She was already dressed in one of the saris that she
usually reserved for visits to the mandir.

‘You look nice,’ he observed, feeling relieved that
she was okay, ‘are we going somewhere for dinner?’

‘No, no, Rajubhai Joshi has called an urgent meeting
at the mandir only. You need to get dressed, quickly. We’ll have to
eat when we get back.’

‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, ignoring the
grumbles of disapproval emanating from his stomach.

‘It doesn’t sound like it, no.’

As if on cue, Lucky walked through the door, looking
tired and equally hungry from his long day of driving.

‘Good evening, everyone.’

‘Lucky get dressed, quickly. We are going to the
mandir; Rajubhai Joshi has called a meeting,’ she insisted.

Lucky’s face dropped instantly, but comprehending
the urgency inherent in his sister’s voice, he didn’t protest.
Wordlessly, he grabbed Arun’s arm and dragged his brother into the
bedroom that they shared, forcing him to change his clothes. Ten
minutes later, the three of them were seated in Lucky’s rickshaw,
riding in silence to the mandir and, though Arun remained puzzled
by their strange behaviour, it was enough for him to know that
something was very wrong.

When they arrived at the mandir, he was surprised to
see so many people lining the steps. There were at least double the
number of people that usually attended the nightly prayers and,
though he could pick out the faces of a few infrequent visitors to
the shop, there were a host of faces that he didn’t recognise at
all. People crowded together in small huddles, talking in hushed
tones, and there was a palpable tension present in the air that
made Arun feel increasingly ill at ease. It was only when Rajubhai
Joshi appeared at the main entrance and beckoned them all inside
that the huddles began to disperse and the people of the village
filed into the main hall of the mandir. Arun obediently followed
Lucky to the men’s side of the room and sat cross-legged beside
him, patiently awaiting the start of the evening prayers, but they
never came.

Rajubhai Joshi stood before the large shrine and, in
an unusual move, faced the audience, his hands clasped together in
a tight ball, devoid of the aarti tray that he usually carried for
worship. The crowd immediately fell quiet at the sight of him and
while they waited with bated breath for him to speak an eerie
silence prevailed in the large hall. Rajubhai Joshi looked tired
and worn, and even before he moved his lips to speak, Arun knew
that he was not going to like what the old man had to say.
Alternating between English and Oriya, he sombrely addressed the
gathered crowd.

‘My dear brothers and sisters,’ he began slowly,
clearing his throat, ‘I thank you all for coming at such short
notice. As you are aware, some years ago the government of Orissa
approved a plan to build a new airport serving Puri. This plan was
also supported at a national level, the idea that visitor numbers
to Puri could be increased by improving direct access to the city.
The search for an optimum site led officials here, to our small
community.

‘During the initial discussions, we rejected their
proposal to move us. After all, why should we simply leave behind
our homes and lives, and the generations of history that we have
with this, our village? Yet undeterred, these same officials then
made offers of financial compensation in addition to the move,
offers that we once again declined, our heartfelt concerns clearly
falling upon deaf ears. With no resolution appropriate to their own
needs, myself and the other mandir committee members were called
upon to defend our right to stay in our homes in a court of
law.

‘My brothers and sisters, we fought valiantly, but I
am sad to say that the greed of the government and the corruption
inherent in our judicial system colluded to prevent us from
securing a victory. On the advice of our counsel and in upholding
the vow that we made to serve you, we appealed that decision and
requested that it be overturned. My dear friends, this morning I
returned from the court in Bhubaneswar, and it is with a heavy
heart that I inform you that our appeal has not been
successful.’

Gasps and cries instantly went up around the room
and, with the shock of Rajubhai Joshi’s words causing widespread
panic, the room was soon buzzing with the sound of a million
worried voices. Arun turned to Lucky, but his brother’s face was
frozen, his mouth wide open in disbelief, unable to compute the
recent turn of events. Rajubhai Joshi raised his hands in the air
and the crowd fell silent once more.

‘I am sorry that we were not able to do more. We did
the very best that we could, but in the end, I am ashamed to say
that our government favours the money of tourists over the
wellbeing of its own people. As the matter has been so protracted
the officials are keen to begin construction right away and, as
such, the relocation process is likely to commence in the next few
weeks.’

Another hysterical cry went up around the audience
and one elderly lady whom Arun didn’t recognise could be heard
wailing uncontrollably while her neighbour tried to comfort her.
Rajubhai Joshi motioned for quiet once more.